A Fairy's Tale
by amitai
Summary: Total crackfic... Alex Rider, The Fairy Tale. Oh, c'mon, it was bound to happen sometime...
1. Chapter 1

Um. Right. Yeah. Total crack!fic right here. Just – well. Just because I can, actually. Oh, yeah, and probably slash. Again – just because I can. But not, I promise, with any character who is older than Alex... or not significantly older at least.

And yes. The fairies count.

DISCLAIMER: Oh, come off it.

* * *

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a King and Queen, called John and Helen, who ruled over the royal and general kingdom of Milit-Intel. Everyone in Milit-Intel loved them very much, and it was a source of great worry in the kingdom that there were no little Princes or Princesses to succeed the good King and Queen; so there was great rejoicing when, after a long and anxious wait, Queen Helen was delivered of a son, Prince Alexander, fondly known throughout the kingdom as Alex.

Prince Alexander was a small baby, puppy-plump and angelically well-behaved with big blue eyes – they hadn't yet changed colour from the typical newborn-blue, but everyone agreed that they were very pretty eyes; or, very 'handsome, manly' eyes, when King John was around – and a few faint wisps of blond hair. All the adoring relatives – or obsequious courtiers, it was sometimes difficult to tell the difference in the Milit-Intelian Palace, situated in the capital of Milit-Intel, simply known as 'Six' – said that he looked exactly like his father, which was of course what King John wanted to hear.

King John and Queen Helen were so proud of their little son, Alex, that they decided to hold a party, to celebrate his birth, and they invited all of the nobles, a fair number of the peasants – Milit-Intel was famous for being a small kingdom; a little like Lichtenstein, in our so-dull modern terms, or possibly Monaco – and some of the fairies, who lived up in the mountains, just beyond the capital city. It was to be a huge party, a grand party, a party everyone would remember.

And remember it, everyone certainly did.

For, fatally, one invitation was not sent out. One fairy was not invited – one fairy it was extremely bad news not to invite.

* * *

The day of the party dawned, bright and clear, and Little Prince Alex gurgled happily as he was bathed, patted down with lavender scented baby powder, and carefully dressed in his favourite royal blue romp-suit. In one interview with 'Milit-Intel Today!', his adoring mother said it made him look 'cute'. His adoring, but slightly less demonstrative father coughed, rather awkwardly, and said that 'he supposed the kid didn't look too bad most of the time'.

In any case, Prince Alex was all dressed and ready by the time the party started. All the guests had their invitations examined, their ID cards checked, their belongings scanned and they were scanned for weaponry – which was perhaps a little silly, since broadswords are not easy weapons to hide. Nevertheless, King John was a careful man, and wanted to make sure that no harm could possibly come to his little family. To that end, the guests were rigorously checked before they were allowed to approach Queen Helen and her little Prince, and all the paparazzi were kept firmly behind wire mesh fences, and King John beamed over the whole.

After the smoked salmon buffet – 'the finest meal in the whole of Milit-Intel, my friends and subjects!' – the fairies whispered something to King John's butler, who whispered something to King John, who nodded.

"Let all the fairies approach the Royal Cradle!" the butler boomed. Little Prince Alex was startled into absolute silence by the noise, and so only blinked up at the fairies who approached his cradle, one by one.

"Oh, isn't he a darling!" Fairy Jack, the Star Bright, cooed over him. "Well, my gift to you, angel, is that you'll be quick of mind and foot, should you ever need it – a useful thing for a King!"

King John and Queen Helen smiled graciously on Fairy Jack as she turned, bobbed a curtsey and made her way away.

Next, Fairy Ian, the dark Rider, stumped up to the cradle. "Hm. Engaging little brat, aren't you?" he addressed the baby, who blinked, and possibly raised an eyebrow at him, if babies can do such things. King John, on the other hand, who most certainly _could_ raise his eyebrow, most certainly _did_. "Right. Gift. You will always know how to blend in anywhere, when you need to. Trust me, you'll thank me for that later." With a cursory little bow, he headed away from the King and Queen and back to the buffet.

The next fairy to approach the cradle was the Fairy Sabina, bringer of joy and Pleasure, who twittered at the baby – who gave her a look of faint terror in return. Apparently, even babies have the wits to be scared of _that much_ glitter. "My gift to you, o Fairest of Princes, is that you will surely be the fairest of all Princes, and will melt anyone's heart – when you want to!"

King John and Queen Helen smiled at her as she flounced away, in her puffy pink dress – that amount of pink tulle should be made illegal, King John thought, absently, and made a mental note to look into passing a law against it – but King John leant across to his wife, and said, with a slight frown,

"Shouldn't she have said that Alex will be able to melt any _fair maidens'_ heart?"

Queen Helen, her smile still firmly in place, muttered back, "Of course not, dear. Why limit yourself?"

The penultimate fairy was Fairy Yassen, the patron fairy of Gregorys. He was a cunning, clever fairy, rather withdrawn, and with a tendency towards depression – there was a theory, among the other fairies, that he was simply still getting over being given such a crap duty. After all, no one _really_ wanted to be a patron fairy, especially not of Gregorys.

Yassen snapped his fingers in front of Alex's big eyes – turning brown now – and muttered, "No reactions there. Right. My gift to you, O Prince Who-Was-Not-Named-Gregory-And-Therefore-Shouldn't-Be-Anything-To-Do-With-Me, is that you'll have good reactions, and you'll have a witty comeback for every occasion. Think how useful that will be."

He turned, and stomped off, without ever bothering to glance in the King and Queen's direction. The monarchs' smiles became a little fixed.

Just as the last fairy was stepping up to the Royal Cradle, the doors swung open with a almighty crash, and the room was bathed in darkness. Framed in the doorway, stood the most terrifying figure in the kingdom of Milit-Intel – the Blunt Fairy, Alan.

The Blunt Fairy Alan had terrorised the Northern borders of Milit-Intel for years; there were rumours that the good King John had tried to fight him once before, and, in a furious battle had cut out what was left of his rather shrivelled conscience – these things always happen in fairy tales. So the Blunt Fairy Alan was left with only one wing – because everyone knows a fairy's conscience is in his right wing – and the other wing had turned black with disuse, and all the cruel deeds he had committed.

It seemed that he was back to commit one more.

"Why, King John," The Blunt Fairy Alan said, tonelessly from the door; he had never been granted the gift of emotive public speaking. All of the other fairies had been to scared to grant it, and everyone knows that a fairy can't grant gifts to themselves. "I see you have a party going on here. I'm hurt that I wasn't invited."

While King John gaped at the fairy's audacity – and at the fact that the fairy had managed to get past the strict palace security – Queen Helen rose to the fore. Smiling charmingly, she said, sweetly, "Blunt Fairy Alan! How lovely to see you… we were hoping that you'd turn up after we'd all finished eating. You see, I've always _hated_ your table manners, and I know you don't like fish, so we thought you wouldn't mind not being invited too much…"

The Blunt Fairy Alan looked a little taken aback by this, but recovered himself well. "Silence, woman!" he said, louder. "I am here to exact my revenge, not engage in this pointless discourse!"

"Get out of here!" King John sputtered. "Away from my family! Away, I tell you!"

The Blunt Fairy Alan raised an eyebrow at him, greyly. "I'm hurt that you don't want me near your family. I was hoping you'd name me godfather, John, after everything I did for you."

"Well, I didn't." King John returned, smartly. "So you can go now." There was just the faintest hint of a childish pout in the King's voice.

"I'm going in just a second." The Blunt Fairy stomped over to the cradle, and peered down at the baby, who gazed back up at him with wide blue eyes. "I too have a gift for the Prince." He said, slowly. "When the Prince turns fourteen, he will prick his finger on an arrow, at which point, he will be enslaved to me." He looked up, met King John's eyes, and a rare, frightening smile slid over his grey face. "For all eternity."

Queen Helen shrieked. "No! You can't do that! You can't!"

"Excuse me," The Blunt Fairy Alan gave her a little bow, scrupulously polite, "But I can. I just did."

King John's response was a lot simpler. He sat down very suddenly on his throne, and said, "Oh bugger."

The Blunt Fairy Alan gave a little cackle, and then stopped, looking faintly embarrassed – much in the same way normal people look when they have hiccupped unexpectedly. Bowing once more to the now hysterical Queen, he disappeared, leaving just the faintest hint of black smoke behind him; the Blunt Fairy Alan had always understood the importance of good drama.

"Excuse me." A timid little voice spoke up from the back of the room. It was Tulip, the last flower fairy left in Milit-Intel – out of embarrassment, she never normally appeared as a fairy, preferring to pretend to be a normal person, calling herself 'Tulip Jones', of all things, and wearing big, rather ill-fitting black clothes to hide her wings and fairy glow.

King John glowered at her, and she shrunk back, sucking a little harder on her mint humbug for courage. "What is it, fairy?" he asked, with barely half-concealed animosity.

"Well, every fairy can only give one gift…" All the other fairies present nodded. "But – I haven't given mine yet, saving your Highness pleasure…"

Queen Helen looked up, half way through recovering from her hysterical fit. "You can save my baby boy?"

"No one can reverse another fairies spell, your Majesty…" Tulip bobbed a rather awkward curtsey. "But I can – lighten it."

"How?!" King John asked, urgently. "If you can do that, do it, by all means!"

Tulip approached the baby's cradle, nervously aware of everyone's eyes on her. Prince Alex, blissfully unaware of the curse which had just been laid on him, was attempting to suck on one of his toes, and he blinked up at her with wide nearly-brown eyes. "Hello." She nodded, rather nervously at the child, who responded with a solemner-than-usual blink. "My gift to you, Prince, is that, um… that when you prick your finger, and are, um, e-enslaved to the B-Blunt Fairy Alan…it will only be until you, um, receive true love's, er, kiss. Then the spell will be, er… broken."

She backed away, and looked up at the King and Queen.

"And what," the King said, very softly, "If he never receives 'true love's kiss'?"

Tulip shrugged, rather helplessly. "I, er… I can't h-help you with that, your Majesty. Anything else would tamper with the B-Blunt Fairy Alan's spell, and, um, that would be – er – bad."

"What would happen?" King John asked.

The Fairy Yassen stepped forwards, looking bored by the whole procedure, but willing to intervene nonetheless. "It would create an infinite paradox, which would crush the tiny kingdom of Milit-Intel, and go on devouring lives and countries in an attempt to sustain itself, spreading out across the universe, until it eventually destroyed everything in its path. At which point, the universe would implode, leaving in its wake infinite nothingness."

"Ah. So, not good, then?"

"No, your Majesty. Not good. Very not good." Yassen agreed, wryly.

"Well then." King John went to the cradle, and looked down at the infant for a few, long moments. Finally, he bent down and picked the boy up, the first time he had done so in public – needless to say, the paparazzi, safely behind their wire fences, went mad. "When my son reaches his first birthday, we will send him away to live with the Fairy Yassen, Tulip, Last Flower Fairy of Milit-Intel, and the Fairy Ian." He said, slowly. "And we hereby decree that all arrows in the kingdom, and all bows, shall be henceforth and immediately destroyed. Egad and Forsooth."

The Fairies Ian and Yassen looked horrified.

* * *

And so, on his first birthday, the Prince Alexander was given a royal birthday party, and the Fairy Yassen grudgingly appeared to pick the little boy up and take him away from his loving parents for the next thirteen years.

Shockingly enough, they found that the Fairy Ian was the best with the little boy, and Tulip and Yassen were perfectly happy just to let him get on with it, occasionally dropping in on him now and then to check that everything was alright. Eventually, after a few years of debate – Fairies can take forever to decide about these things – they moved in together, for ease of access, and began a fraught, tense and at times violent private life that made the now-five year old Alex shriek with laughter.

Yassen and Ian had the tensest relationship in the little cottage they had bought, in the large forest of Chel-on-Sea, a relationship which often resulted in pistols at dawn in the nearest clearing. The fairies quick healing came in very handy at times like those.

Tulip generally kept everything in order, proving to be a genius at organisation, if a little lacking in imagination. Ian dealt with any intruders into their little realm, and Yassen provided the imagination. Unfortunately, the Fairy Yassen's imagination was – eclectic – at best, and was as likely to provide a deadly obstacle course for the little now-seven year old Prince as a nice new teddy bear at bedtime.

However, in their own twisted, bizarre little ways, each of the fairies was fond of the little boy. He was, it had to be said, very easy to love, and each of them treated him differently than the other. Yassen was the big brother – rarely serious, rarely affectionate and rarely there, but fun to be around all the same. Ian was the authority figure, stern but fair and affectionate – as far as he knew how to be. And Tulip was the aunt, or mummy figure, as disturbing as that is; always there with a plaster and a mint humbug. Other children got hugs and cookies, but then, Alex wasn't like other children, and it wasn't as though he'd ever expressed a _desire_ for hugs and cookies, so mostly, the fairies ignored all parenting advice they'd ever heard, and just got on with it.

* * *

Finally, the dreaded day of Alex's fourteenth birthday arrived. Tulip gave him a large back of mint humbugs – her traditional gift; she'd never seen the enormous stash of them Alex kept under his bed, as he really couldn't stand the things – and a large book on stealth witchcraft she thought the boy might find interesting. Ian's gift was typically practical, a warm cloak – "lined with the fur of stealth tiger; excellent for stealth manoeuvring, Alex." Here he caught Tulip's eye. "And machine washable, of course…" – and a pair of sturdy boots, which, apparently, were as light as a feather when put on – something Ian dismissed, as a 'frippery charm'. Yassen's was, as always the most interesting present – a long lochinvar axe.

"I'll teach you how to use it, sometime." He promised, casually. "But until then, try not to behead anyone, alright?" he paused. "Unless it's Ian. You have my full permission to kill Ian."

With the present giving done, they all settled back into their usual routine, and proceeded to ignore Alex's birthday altogether – and a long way away from Chel-on-Sea, a lonely, childless King and Queen celebrated the birthday of their missing Prince, and prayed.

* * *

Well, there you are then. Save an author; review a story.

lol,

-ami xxx


	2. Chapter 2

The second chapter of this little epic! Aren't you all glad to see it?

I'm not as happy with this chapter as I was with the last one, but, oh, well. I hope you like it!

I'm afraid to say that, due to the whole 'A-Levels' thing, I have effectively stopped writing fanfiction for the next few months. By August, when I've finished my internship at this company and finally have time to think, then I will start writing again properly. Until then, I'm afraid you're all going to have to be patient. I will write one more chapter of HIOP (and no promises over how long it will take me), and after that, anything I manage to post will have been written in a period of intense frustration over having to re-take my stupid Italian bloody Risorgimento History AS-Level. It's a bonus, basically. Please - and I really do hate to do this, but I know you'll all understand, because you're such kind and lovely people - consider all of my stories on hiatus until August. I don't mean to be difficult, but I'm sure you can all see that in a priority-fight between my A-Levels and fanfiction, although I'd be rooting for fanfiction to win, A-Levels would have to.

Anyway! Onwards. The person who spots the Gilbert and Sullivan quote, the Pride and Prejudice misquote and the Life on Mars quote wins a virtual medal. They certainly _deserve_ a meddle. Whoever you are, you're quite possibly as insane as me - join the club! We have straitjackets.

Someone mentioned that this story seemed to have elements of the Gail Carson Levine to it, which I thought was rather interesting - I suppose it's entirely possible that it does, since I read Ella Enchanted over and over and over again when I was about - ooh, thirteen? Fourteen? Old enough that I should have been reading much more intellectual things . On the other hand, sad to say, any overtones of GCL are totally accidental, because I didn't have any of it in mind when I wrote the story.

And the DISCLAIMER: Oh, please.

* * *

Alex was chopping wood the next day – with his new axe; Yassen had given him permission to chop wood with it on the basis of 'I suppose you might as well get some use of it for the moment' – and humming to himself, a tune he had grown up with Tulip singing to him. Sometimes, he wished he remembered his real family (he wasn't stupid enough to think that he was actually related to the three slightly insane fairies he lived with), and today was one of those days.

"No one shouldn't be with their family on their birthday." He muttered to himself, splitting another log down the centre.

"I know, right?" another voice answered him. Alex wheeled round, axe at the ready. He might not have had a clue what to do with it in the heat of a battle, but living with Yassen and Ian in one house together prepared you for pretty much anything. Plus, Alex had always been good at thinking fast on his feet. "I was away for my last birthday."

A pale, dark haired boy appeared between the trees, a fine sword strapped to one hip, and an arrow and quiver slung across his back.

"Who are you?" Alex asked, eyes narrowing. "What do you want? Why are you in the forest?"

The boy offered him a tentative smile. "I'm, er – Jack. Just Jack. Who are you?"

"Alex." He paused, then returned the smile, also rather tentatively. "Just Alex. Where were you on your last birthday?"

"I was in – Centra-Intel." The boy sighed. "I'm from Federa-Bura. You must be from Milit-Intel, from the way you look."

"Oh?" Alex shrugged – that was the most information he'd ever had about himself. "I don't know where I'm from. And I don't know what most Milit-Intelians look like."

"Really?" Jack looked interested. "Most of them have blond hair and blue eyes. Except for the King, of course. His eyes are brown. Just like yours!"

"Maybe we're related." Alex joked, half-heartedly, turning back to the logs he was supposed to be chopping.

Jack nodded, with a quick grin. "Maybe you are." For a few moments, they sat in silence, until Jack offered, "So, why aren't you with your family?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I know they're not dead, but I don't know where they are, who they are… why I don't live with them…"

Jack nodded. "Ah. Fair enough."

"What's your family like, then?"

Jack looked away for a moment. "My mother's dead." He said, quietly, "And my father's a bit – well… distant."

"Distant?"

"Yeah. Distant. He's always busy, you know? Not much time for me. I mean, I was going to go this weird school for a bit – place up in the mountains of Duxieu-Bure, if you know it?" Alex shook his head. "Yeah, well, lucky you. Anyway, during a routine IME check-"

"'IME'?" Alex asked, quizzically.

"Golly, you really are sheltered, aren't you? IME – International Ministry of Education. Yeah, so during a routine check, it turned out they were 'infringing the rights of their students', and they got shut down. So I got sent to Centra-Intel for a year. To learn the language."

"Why, don't you already speak it fluently?" Alex asked, interested by the prospect of having someone from 'The Outside World' (as Tulip called it; you could hear the capitals), who would actually answer all the questions he had. Tulip had always brushed him off with a 'not now, um, dear', and Ian and Yassen did what they usually did and totally ignored him whenever he asked any question much deeper than 'could you pass the salt, please'.

Jack frowned. "No, of course not. Do you?"

"I think so. Well, a little fluently. We lived there for a little while, you see. My – uncle, and me." Alex explained, with a blatant disregard for the grammatical rules of his mother tongue, turning back to his wood and hefting the axe. "Only a couple of months, but it's enough, isn't it?"

"Quite enough." Jack agreed, fervently. "I've never been anywhere so boring in my _life_."

Alex considered this answer, and decided not to call his new friend on it. He didn't want to annoy the boy so soon – not when he'd just made his first ever friend.

Turning this thought over in his head, he looked at his new friend, head on one side, and said, slowly, "So, Jack…"

"Hmm?"

"Are we friends now, then?"

Jack looked at him for a long moment, his lips twitching, then laughed out loud. "Sure, why not?" he nodded, "You are _strange_, Alex. But I think – I think I rather like you." He coughed, and looked away, before allowing his voice to deepen just a little. "And it's not like I've got anything better to do than talk to you…"

"Oh, good." Alex said, with a return grin, after considering that last statement, and dismissing it as some kind of bizarre Real World trait. He'd pick up things like that as he went when he got to the Real World himself. "I've never had a friend before. Not a proper one."

James put his head to one side, and looked him over, before shaking his head, with a slight smile. "You strange, _strange_ boy."

* * *

Over the course of the next week or so, they met up fairly regularly, Alex completing his chores in record time and sneaking away to meet his new friend. By the end of that week, they were on good terms – Alex was learning to curb some of the less-normal mannerisms which came from living with three fairies who were all a good few fruitcakes short of a picnic, and Jack was learning to be a little less – arrogant.

For Jack was no ordinary young man. No, Jack was in fact a Prince (as all romantic young men should try to be, if it is at all possible), of the ancient and noble country Federa-Bura. Prince James, of the noble Sprintz lineage, and he was staying at an army encampment, a couple of miles outside the forest.

But he wasn't planning on telling his dear new friend Alex that any time soon.

By the end of the second week, they were on to the rough-housing stage which most boys seem to go through, and by the end of week three, they were trying to teach each other the finer points of their favoured weapons. As luck would have it, 'Jack' was a dab hand with an axe, and Alex – who had learnt swordplay from two of the best masters in the realm, though he didn't know it; Ian hid it well, and Yassen even better – had a few tricks to show Jack.

Whirlwind though it certainly was, things always happen that way in fairy tales; and at least in this one, the participants were more circumspect than to meet in a forest, dance, and fall in love. They took their time, fairytale-wise, and it took them a whole month before they realised what was going on.

James had been teaching Alex to shoot, on Alex's request, and he was correcting his friend's stance, one hand on his friend's elbow, the other covering his hand, guiding his stance.

"Like this?" Alex asked, turning his head slightly to look at his friend. For a moment, they met each other's eyes. Alex's breath hitched – James felt his heart pound faster.

So he did the totally logical thing.

He took a step back, adjusted his tunic, cleared his throat, and nodded. "Yeah. Just like that." He agreed, rather hoarsely, and watched as Alex fired the arrow dead straight into the tree they were using as an impromptu target.

* * *

Over the next couple of days, he couldn't get the moment out of his head, so finally, he took his courage in both hands, and waited for Alex at their clearing, hands on hips, feet planted firmly on the ground. When Alex appeared at the clearing, he said, firmly.

"Alex, hi, nice to see you again. I'd like to kiss you, please."

Alex was, understandably, more than a little taken aback by the whole thing. After all, it wasn't every day that your best friend asks to kiss you. And it's certainly not every day that your best friend asks to kiss you in the same way your best friend might ask you if he could borrow a book of yours.

"Um. Cool." He responded, eloquently.

"So, that's a yes, then?" Jack asked, hands falling from his hips, all the decisiveness gone from his demeanour. "I mean, because, you don't have to say yes. At all. I mean, it's just a – a – thing. I mean, it's not a … I mean…."

Alex grinned. "You strange, _strange_ boy."

Jack risked a quick smile. "Right. So – I _can_ kiss you?"

"Yeah, why not?"

As responses, it wasn't exactly the weak-at-the-knees, breathy-whisper 'oh, God, Jack, _please_' he'd secretly been hoping for, but it was good enough. "Um. Ah. Right. Awesome."

He took a step towards his friend, and then another, and then another – until he was stood right in front of the other boy. He put a hand on Alex's waist, another coming up to cup his cheek. Alex stood there, rather woodenly, until Jack said, quietly, "You're supposed to move too, Al."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Both arms naturally went up around Jack's neck, and it was then that disaster struck.

Jack had packed his quiver in a hurry that morning, eager to be out and seeing his friend again, to have the whole sticky 'kiss' situation resolved, and one of the arrows was point-side up. Alex's hand just happened to graze against the arrow, and, of course, the curse immediately came into effect – sadly, even the weakest curse never has a sell-by date. A large, grey cloud appeared in the clearing, billowing ominously.

"Mwahahahahaha!!" issued from the cloud, and both boys stumbled apart.

Alex was unimpressed by the theatricals. "Yassen, if that's you again…" he started, the threat clear in his voice.

The cloud's response was less than impressed. "I? Yassen? That worthless _patron _fairy? Hah! I spit in the face of your 'Yassen'!"

"Then you'd have your own face mutilated beyond recognition." Alex pointed out, calmly, and the cloud seemed to pause, momentarily.

"No matter." It said, after taking a moment to think it over. "I will be long gone before your Yassen appears."

"OK." Alex agreed, equably. "But who's 'I'? Who are you?"

"I am the Blunt Fairy Alan!"

When he reflected on this scene later that day, the Blunt Fairy Alan would find himself rather disappointed by the reactions that statement garnered. The other, dark boy – his reaction was very satisfactory. He gasped, and took a step back, his face paling even further than usual, even though the grip on the sword he had immediately drawn was still as firm as ever.

The other boy, though, the Milit-Intelian Prince, now, _his_ reaction was most disappointing.

"What a _ridiculous_ name." he said, calmly. "And you think _Yassen's_ name is stupid? Hah!"

"Silence, impudent boy!"

Jack took a step forward. His face was white, but set, and he brandished his sword fiercely at the cloud – now starting to coalesce into a vaguely human shape.

"Run, Alex!" he said, bravely. "I'll hold it off!"

Alex gave him a frankly disparaging look. "What do you think I am, a girl?" he said, scornfully. "Of course I won't '_run_'. Don't be ridiculous." He brandished his own axe at the now definitely man-shaped cloud.

"You will obey me, minion!" It told him, firmly, and he laughed.

"Yeah, bite me."

"No, really, you will."

Alex paused. "What?"

"You are mine! Mine, I say, mine, for all eternity!! Mwahahaha!!"

"Oh, but his One True Love must be able to save him." Jack put in knowledgeably, momentarily distracted from the cause of 'Save Alex, Sacrifice Self' by a decent topic of debate. "That's the way these things always work. You know, the vile, evil sorceress – or sorcerer, the Guild of Evildoers is an equal-opportunity employer now – puts the spell on, and the Good Fairy gives the poor hapless victim a Get-Out Clause. Alex must have a GOC of some sort."

The definitely-human-shaped Blunt Fairy Alan gave Jack a venomous glare. "He has a GOC. But he will never find it! Mwahahaha!!" He paused, looking faintly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. That seems to have been happening more and more over the past couple of days. Mwah-" He broke himself forcibly off before the evil cackle could grow any further. Drawing himself up to his full, rather unimpressive height, he glared at Alex. "You will be coming with me, oh minion."

"I most certainly will not be, oh moron." Alex returned, promptly.

"I order it!"

"I ref-" The word was cut off before it could get any further. "I refu-" he tried again. Again, nothing. "I absolutely, totally and utterly will n-" he frowned. "What the hell?"

"Your soul is mine, until the end of _time_." Jack made a move towards the Blunt Fairy Alan, and was flung backwards into a tree trunk, where he slumped down, unconscious.

"You bastard!" Alex howled, and threw himself at the Fairy – but to no avail. His axe was thrown out of his hands, and his sword wouldn't draw from its sheath; the Fairy grabbed his wrist, and they puffed away.

All that was left was an unconscious Prince, a lochinvar axe, and the Blunt Fairy Alan's traditional wisp of grey smoke.

* * *

When James came to a few moments later, he looked around the clearing for his friend, and his eyes lit on the discarded axe, and the grey smoke.

"No!" he cried, scrambling over to the axe, and touching it reverentially with one hand. "Noooo!!" he added again, for good measure, picking the thing up and examining it.

As far as fairytale tokens went, it wasn't exactly a glass slipper, but it would do. Not to mention the fact that James was absolutely certain that, if he had ever suggested Alex wear glass slippers, he would have been smacked round the back of the head, and told exactly where he could shove his glass slippers.

So the axe would have to do. It was a little difficult to cherish, but he could always polish it occasionally, he supposed.

Hefting it, he made a promise, a solemn promise on the honour of his family, that he would find the man – fairy – _thing_ which had stolen his Alex, kill him, and set Alex free. There had to be someway of doing it. There always was. Alex might not have been his One True Love, but he was probably about as close to it as James was going to get, and that was good enough for him.

"Hold on, Alex." He whispered, to the breezes. "I'm coming."

The trees rustled. Somewhere, a bird cheeped contentedly. The clearing was still and quiet.

Thoroughly disgruntled at the total lack of pathetic fallacy (1), James turned and trudged back towards the army encampment.

* * *

The Three Stooges – er… fairies – were worried when Alex wasn't home for tea, but not unduly, until Tulip activated her Alex-Sensor and found that he wasn't anywhere in range.

Since the range had a radius of one hundred miles in every direction, this was understandably something of a worry.

"Right." Yassen said, firmly, taking charge. "Well, we'd better tell John and Helen."

"The King and Queen?" Tulip twittered, rather nervously.

"No, the _other_ John and Helen who are Alex's parents." Yassen told her disparagingly. "Honestly, you call yourself a fairy? Less intuition than a mere_ human_."

Tulip flushed, but muttered, under her breath. "But I'll need a new dress…"

Both Ian and Yassen gave her a Look, and she shrugged. "Fine, fine. Of we go, then."

They cracked to the palace in record time, right into the throne room, where Queen Helen and King John were sitting in state.

"Flower Fairy Tulip! Patron Fairy Yassen! Ian!" Helen smiled at them.

"Oh, sure, leave out that I'm a fairy, why don't you?" Ian muttered.

Yassen stepped surreptitiously on his foot. "You're complaining? You actually _want_ to be called a fairy? Cos, I'll call you a fairy any time you like, you great, soft, sissy, nancy, bender, _French_-"

"French?" Ian hissed at him, out of the corner of his mouth.

For once, Yassen actually looked a little embarrassed. "I heard it on a TV programme…"

"Gentlemen?" King John fixed them with a piercing glare, and they subsided. "Flower Fairy Tulip – how can we help you?"

"How is my baby?" Helen gushed. "Where is he? Is he with you? Is he safe? Is he-"

"Ah, yes…" Tulip stammered. "Um, you see… um…"

"He's gone." Ian put in, helpfully.

"Missing." Yassen elaborated.

The Queen shushed them without really listening. "Do go on, Tulip."

"Well, you see, your, um, Majesty, there's a slight, um, problem with, er, Prince Alex, because he's, um, a little, well, er – not _lost_, exactly, more, um, locationally challenged. He's just – he, um – he, well…"

"He's gone, isn't he?" The Queen said, mind finally catching up with what Ian and Yassen had said. "Missing?"

"Well, um – yes."

Queen Helen paled, nodded, and smiled rather weakly. Then she passed out.

For a long moment, there was a pause in the throne room. Then Ian clapped his hands, and turned to his fellow fairies.

"Well, all things considered, I think that went rather well, don't you?"

* * *

In Federa-Bura, Prince James approached his father two days after Alex's disappearance, once he had ridden back from the army encampment to his home palace.

"Father!" he cried, flinging himself off his horse at his father, who, notified of his son's homecoming, had come out to meet him.

"James." King Dieter nodded at him.

"I am departing on a Quest to find my One True Love." James announced, grandly, and Dieter frowned.

"You most certainly are not."

Prince James deflated slightly. "I'm not?"

"No, you're not. You're going to stay here, and learn how to run a kingdom." Dieter took his son's arm and drew him rather forcibly into the house. "It's time you settled down a little-"

"Well, surely if I found my One True Love again-"

"Again? Oh, sweet Horowitz, you honestly believe you've found you're One True Love? Pah!" Dieter frowned. "That a son of mine should grow up _believing_ in True Love…" he directed his attention to James again. "Look, James, you're not _like_ other Princes. Not like those snobs from Centra-Intel, or, or, King John from Milit-Intel, who've had the throne for generations. We Sprintzes, we had to _fight_ for our kingdom, and True Love only happens to people with the right _bloodlines_, so you need to put all of this nonsense out of your head, and get to the real business of running your future kingdom."

James briefly considered trying to argue his father round, envisaged the flaming row which would ensue, and was momentarily tempted by the bright lights of Teenage Rebellion.

Then, he recognised the benefits of the great and wonderful Compromise, and turned to his father.

"Father. Give me one year to find my One True Love again, and I swear, I will never again complain about having to check over the Tax Returns from Sub-Sector D."

Dieter's eyes narrowed slightly. "Or Sub-Sector F?"

James swallowed. "Or Sub-Sector F."

His father considered it for a long moment, then held out his hand. "Done!" James shook it, and turned away, with a jubilant grin. "Oh, and James? Who is this One True Love you've found?"

He shrugged. "He lives with fairies in the forest of Chel-On-Sea. His name's Alex." He gave his father another quick smile, and left the room, to depart on his Quest.

Behind him, Dieter's face took on a thoughtful expression. "Almighty Horowitz… Alex, eh? Hmm…."

* * *

Five hundred miles away, up a very tall mountain in a very dense forest, past the dreaded Stormbreaker Canyon, the Skeleton Key cliffs and the rocks of Eagle Strike Peak, Alex woke with a start. Of course, he didn't know that he was five hundred miles away, up a very tall mountain in a very dense forest, past the dreaded Stormbreaker Canyon, the Skeleton Key cliffs, and the rocks of Eagle Strike Peak, but it adds verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and uninteresting narrative.

He was alone in a hut in a clearing, and he sat up with a groan. "Where the _hell_ am I?" he wondered out loud, and then felt monumentally stupid for talking out loud.

Deciding to scout out his surroundings, he opened the door to the tiny hut, and headed out into the clearing. Creatures of all kinds fled as he opened the door – except for four of them, sat – or perched, or coiled – at the edge of the clearing, staring at him with piercing eyes.

A little uncomfortable – especially because of the biggest one, who appeared to be giving him a frankly lascivious look – he tried to shoo them away. "Go on, um, little creatures," he tried; apparently that was what one was supposed to say in situations such as this one. That was what Tulip said, anyway. "Go back to your burrows. Shoo, I say! Shoo!"

The largest one, a particularly well-turned out silver-furred wolf, returned the encouraging look he sent its way with disdain. "Fuck off." It told him, bluntly. "We're here to stay."

Alex frowned. "You talk?"

"Of course we talk." The wolf told him, sourly. "We're from the Speaking Animal Services, what did you expect us to do? Bleat?"

"The _Speaking Animal Services_?!"

"Yes."

Alex stared at them for a long, long moment. "Oh good Horowitz."

* * *

(1) - pathetic fallacy, for anyone who's wondering (and I'm sure no one was, but I would have been, so here, have an explanation) is the use of the weather to show the characters feelings. Like, it raining when someone's crying their eyes out, or it being sunny and blue-skied when the characters are happy and in love and rolling in fields of golden corn with no regard whatsoever to the livelihood of some poor farmer.

So, there you go. There should be one, maybe two more chapters left - but probably just the one. Hopefully. Just think, another finished story! I have 30 up, and about 3 finished ones. Argh.

Did you like? Do tell.

-amitai


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